LESSONS FROM A MULE

“Your mule does NOT want to commit suicide!”

This was my mantra as I rode down the trail into the Grand Canyon last month.

After signing a waiver that referred to “death by mule” in at least four of the six paragraphs, I donned my wide-brimmed straw hat and mounted Big G. “He’s one of the biggest mules we have,” our wrangler told me. (Where was Little G?)

I have never bonded with four-legged beasts of burden enough to relax and trust their temperaments or sure-footedness. On past trail rides out West, I insisted on riding the horse that was so short my feet practically touched the ground, one for which fast was a slow walk. I wanted a horse, who, if given any free rein, would simply head back to the barn.

Perched atop Big G’s saddle, anticipating the ten-mile journey down into the largest hole in North America, I realized I needed to do some reckoning - with myself, the mule and the whole situation I had gotten myself into.

The instructions from the wrangler were simple: Let the mule know who’s boss. If I am not, he will be. And mules like to mess with their riders. They make this trip frequently enough to want to enhance it with some entertainment. The riders are their entertainment.

If I didn’t stay awake and aware of the mule, his pace, his inclination to stop and eat grasses along the trail, he would fall behind. My mule and the ones behind me would have to catch up with the riders who had moved down the path.

Catching up meant trotting on a narrow, steep trail that fell hundreds of feet down to another leg of the trail below. The trotting was not only uncomfortable on my rear end, but also scary.

The mules are also trained to walk on the outside of the trail, the side nearest to the edge of the Canyon. They can become spooked by snakes, deer, hikers, and any other unimaginable being lurking in that grand place.

Managing the mule, while also trusting his instincts for survival, which included my survival as well, was the challenge. Early in the ride I learned the importance of using the “motivator” (aka riding crop) on his hindquarters with regularity. I found that while I was in some measure of control of my mule’s pace and where he was putting his attention (What IS the attention span of a mule? I wondered), I was totally out of control of unexpected events that could scare my mule and cause him to do God knows what. I could only hope that he did not jump over the edge of the trail into the abyss below. I reminded myself, “Your mule does NOT want to commit suicide!”

The scenery in the Grand Canyon is beyond words; awesome, extraordinary, overwhelming and amazing only begin to describe what surrounded me. I wanted to be present with that magnificence and enjoy the profusion of wildflowers, the desert fragrances, the deep blue sky and the sounds of the birds.

How could I fully appreciate this environment and still pay enough attention to my mule so he would know I was the boss? What was that fine line between managing my mule with awareness and letting go enough to open to what was unfolding around me?

I realized I needed to be alert, but with spaciousness and relaxation. I had to trust the animal while being mindful of his need to be managed.

“Breathe!” This became my back-up mantra when fear rose up. I noticed my choices – be afraid or enjoy myself.

We were told to face our mules out over the edge of the canyon when we came to a resting place. While it was the scariest position for the riders, it was the most secure for the mule. If something did spook him, he would back up, not charge forward. And backing up, even on a narrow trail, was the safety zone.

On the second day of our adventure we made the journey from the ranch at the bottom of the Grand Canyon back up to the rim. Upon leaving the Grand Canyon and re-entering the world I had left behind, I realized that Big G had given me some gifts to guide me back East:

• Let the mule know who’s boss AND enjoy the scenery. This correlates with the ability to manage life with trust and awareness. It’s about softening and relaxing as well as precision and seeing clearly.
• Face the mule into the canyon when he needs to rest. This reminds me of needing “wiggle room” in life. How often do we over commit, over promise, tap out our energy and run short of time because we can’t back up anymore? I am reminded to give myself room to back up and claim some space.
• When the mule stops to relieve himself, there is no going anywhere. Relax when things in life come to a standstill and enjoy the moment. I have been practicing this when I get stopped at a traffic light. Normally I am chomping at the bit, feeling impatient for the light to turn green. Now I sit back, knowing that the light will change when it is time; meanwhile, I look around and notice flowers blooming, the sky full of clouds, interesting people passing by.
• Breathe and relax into wakefulness. The animal knows when his rider is nervous. By breathing and consciously relaxing into the saddle, instead of riding tight and tense, not only did I end the ride with a more comfortable rear end, but both the mule and I had a better time of it. So true in life as well. Relax into the saddle of life and the bumps and rough spots will be less stressful.

Back on the rim, we got down from our mules. “Ouch!” I felt every muscle in my body. I was grateful to have communed with a wise and skilled animal. I thanked Big G for the valuable lessons he imparted on the ride of a lifetime.

"To love what you do and feel that it matters -
how could anything be more fun?"

-Katherine Graham

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